Sweet grapes
the lygeres carry
at the winepresses.
The must is sour.
and thick, it intoxicates the young
dancers.
With gratitude
The crops and the earth drink
the first rain.
The roots are sucking
the rain, like the mind
the light of knowledge.
Gentle rain
on our tin roof
He strikes the harp.
After the rain
Earth's soil
he/she/it was musky.
I return self-sufficient.
in the solitude of the forest
and I reflect.
They nod modestly at me.
from the silence of the rocks
the cyclamen!
They are painting.
the November cape
and our lips.
The hours are lazy.
they roll full of sadness
autumn.
How does it swallow?
silent at dusk
the light of day!
Time for bed,
Ladybug! In March
Let's say it again!
From my book: “SWEET LIGHT”
photo by NoName_13, https://pixabay.com
